At last she was roused. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head. ” Anna stepped to the foot of the bed. ” She growled. He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses. “You were born for great things,” he said huskily.
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